Oh, What is Love?
by SHIELD-HR
Summary: this is a Seamus love story, chaste and clean.


This story is exclusively for Doublelily, who asked me to do this in a very nice manner. This is possibly the ONLY romance I will ever write, as I don't do them well. I personally have no cannon supported ship for Seamus, so I have chosen this one as the most unlikely, and therefore most cute.

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_Look at her! Her form like that of an angel! So like unto those heavenly creatures that his mind ached from the mere vision of her._ His heart, too, if truth is to be told. _How pure her face, how lovely! Her movements graceful, her skin soft and perfect. Her hair silky and flowing, her eyes like some unflawed gem; he loved her. God, how he loved her!_

Shaking himself out of his thoughts with a guilty start, Seamus Finnegan recalled his current assignment. He carefully added the one last ingredient to his cauldron. Oh, but too late! The brew within exploded in a shower of reddish-brown goo, which made little popping sounds as it disappeared in midair. _Potions class_ he reflected, _is not the best time to think of things other than potions, no matter how pure and wonderful they may be._ He sighed deeply, and began again.

Luckily, Professor Snape was not leading class today, being sick as a dog, and Professor McGonagall was filling in. Snape would have had Seamus's head for ruining the potion of Eagle's Splendor he was supposed to be making. Designed to increase the perceived beauty of the imbiber, it was supposed to end as a sweet-smelling yellow broth. He was sure it wasn't supposed to be reddish-brown, go 'boom,' and then vaporize.

"Mr. Finnegan!" McGonagall was not amused either, it would seem.

"Yes, Professor?"

"What did you do? I do not believe I have ever seen that particular reaction with this potion."

"Erm, I waited too long to add the feather, Professor." Or not! For the feather sat there innocently on his desk. "Oops. I added something else, I suppose. I don't know what, though."

"Find out, Finnegan. Try to get it right this time."

"Yes, Professor." Eventually he got the potion correct, and he went to write down the results when he noticed his quill was missing. "Ah, Professor? I believe I have found my mistake."

"And?"

"I do believe I added my writing quill by mistake." He felt a blush beginning at his neckline.

"What bird?"

"Raven," he muttered wretchedly. "I think it was a raven." The blush crept higher, reddening his neck.

"Hrm." McGonagall narrowed her eyes at him. "See me after class, Finnegan."

"Yes, Professor." As the blush stained his cheeks, he muttered something profane in Gaelic.

"And watch your mouth, lad." The blush completed its journey, and his entire face went red. He'd forgotten she knew Gaelic.

"Yes, Professor."

"Stop sounding like a martyr, boy, no one but yourself ruined that potion. If you say 'yes, professor' one more time, it will go very hard on you." Her green eyes glinted with an inner fire, she was mocking him. Seamus didn't notice.

"Yes, Pro… er, alright. Sure." Damn and blast! Bottling his second and perfect potion took but a moment. His whole head was red, and he was sure a headache was starting.

To be thus embarrassed in front of i HER /i ! For there she was, sitting at her desk two rows in front of him. His angel! He had no claim on her, none at all. She must think him the world's fool. Well he knew that he was! His thoughts were disrupted by the ending of class, and the other students started to leave.

"Buck up, Seamus! Better a raven in potion than an Eagle at your liver!" _She spoke! To him! Ah, but sure and Heaven smiles upon the unfortunate man! Such wit! Such wisdom!_

So absorbed was he that he stood with his mouth open and a stricken look upon his face. She walked away smiling, vaguely it would seem to some. He could neither move nor speak. He did nothing to prevent her as she floated away, ethereal and graceful. _Luna!_ But words only thought can not be heard unless spoken, and he did not do so. _Luna Lovegood, well her name suits her. Pale and distant as the moon, as worthy of love as any upon God's Earth. More than some, perhaps._

"Finnegan! Recall yourself to this plane, please! You have work to do." McGonagall's voice, harsh as a crow's after _her's_ jolted him back t reality. He could wait for Luna. He would wait.

"Yes, Professor." _Oh yes, he would wait. For love is patient…_

"Finnegan!"

"Oh, Blast."


End file.
